


An Abnormal Crush

by sherlocked221



Series: A Tale of an OFC and her Hormone Monster [2]
Category: Big Mouth (Cartoon)
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 12:45:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17849696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked221/pseuds/sherlocked221
Summary: It’s been about a week. An entire week. It’s been even longer than that since you’ve been able to actually finish. A week ago you just gave up trying. Maurice would probably be ashamed of you. Or, you hope, he’d misunderstand entirely and congratulate you on saving it all up and remind you how intense a climax would be now that you’ve left it for a while.You just have a small problem, because the person you want to fantasise about, you would rather Maurice not know about, just because you're not sure if it's an abnormal crush, even to a Hormone Monster.





	An Abnormal Crush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackLaceLamb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackLaceLamb/gifts).



> Thank you to BlackLaceLamb for this idea! I hope it's what you were thinking o.  
> I might write a bit of smut to go with it too, but here's the first part at least.

The house is empty, save for you. But you’re tucked away in your room as though your mum is still somewhere downstairs or in her own bedroom. You like it better in there. There’s no point sprawling out in the living room, flicking on the TV and watching some crap on Netflix when you have your laptop, desk, and the familiar feeling of privacy upstairs in the little box you call your bedroom.

But, thinking about it, you’re not desperate for privacy at the moment. Having the whole house empty was always something you strove for in the past. A perfect time for you to indulge in the newest skill you’d picked up- actually being able to stick a finger up inside you- and not have to keep deadly silence or hidden under a duvet in case anyone wandered in. Your body still reacts to the silence, the lack of another presence in the whole house. It’s like  you’re alone in the whole world, with no prying eyes, no risk or chance, just you, your hand and your hormone monster.

Immediately, as that thought enters your mind, you feel tired, as if you just can’t be bothered to touch yourself. Though your legs are spread under your desk and your left hand rests mere inches from your crotch, and your body kind of aches for it, you just can’t bring yourself to do anything.

It’s been about a week. An entire week. It’s been even longer than that since you’ve been able to actually finish. A week ago you just gave up trying. Maurice would probably be ashamed of you. Or, you hope, he’d misunderstand entirely and congratulate you on saving it all up and remind you how intense a climax would be now that you’ve left it for a while. It does sound nice…

“Hey!”

The voice makes you jump out of your skin. Instinctively, you bring your left hand up onto the table and push yourself around in your chair. There, standing in the middle of the room is Maurice, your hormone monster, looking a bit more apprehensive than he usually is. But that’s probably your fault. You’d hardly seen him this week. And though you thought it was best you kept him away, it’s been hard. You’ve been feeling crappy, and he seems to share your mood.

With a heavy slump, he collapses on your bed.

“Hi.” You reply timidly, “You alright?”

“Are _you_?” He spits back, “It’s been _ages_ since you last did anything. What’s wrong with you?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You lie, deciding against correcting him. It hasn’t actually been all that long since you’ve touched yourself, or gotten horny. God, there’s been sometimes you could’ve escaped lessons to go and have a little play in the loos at school. It just seems you haven’t been able to. Every time you’ve gotten close you’ve just… well you can’t explain it. It’s like you can’t bring yourself to finish. Sometimes it’s like you can’t even start.

Because you know, no matter what, Maurice will turn up.

“Are you just not feeling it?” He asks, seemingly going from a little bit hurt, to caring and considerate. You’ve known for a while that he has it in him to be something other than the little devil on your shoulder convincing you that everything you see is sexy, but it still is strange. There’s been very few times he’s asked you a question like this one. Usually, he’d just get you in the mood. You don’t really know how he managed it. It was almost as though he clicked his fingers and your legs went weak.

Actually, you’ve got a good idea of how he managed it, but you can’t admit it. You don’t know just how far your minds are linked. Though he tells you that he can’t read every thought, he can get it eerily on the nose at times. Especially with sex things.

“I guess not.” You again lie, adding, “Does that make me weird?”

“Course not…” He replies, “There’s nothing wrong with a dry spell. But… er… y’know, it might just be… maybe we need to do a bit of porn browsing to make sure.” Half excitedly- though it comes off more desperate than anything, he kicks off the bed and stands over you, his arms winding around your sides and taking control of the laptop.

If this were any other time, you might have the strength in you to shove him off, to tell him this isn’t the time. But it’s been a long time since you’ve felt his warmth around you. Ensuring he’s preoccupied with opening an incognito tab and getting onto a site, you sit back in your chair, hands resting in your lap, and you indulge in a pleasure you’ve disallowed yourself to have since… since you realized something.

There’s something about Maurice, the way his fur wraps around you, tickles you, warms you up, his caring nature, and filthiness, his confidence and utter shamelessness that you like. A lot. A bit too much.

“Hey, there we go!” He says, looking down at you. You realize that you had your eyes shut. As soon as you feel him move, they shoot open. You notice he hasn’t even gotten onto a site yet. “I knew you were holding out.”

“I didn’t mean to. I really haven’t felt like doing it.”

“But look at you!” His voice becomes gruffer, deeper, with arousal. You try not to let it affect you. Surely this is wrong. “Just thinking about porn is getting you _wet._ ”

You cringe, about to say, “It’s not that…” but you manage not to.

Of course, that doesn’t keep Maurice from knowing what you had wanted to say. This is the reason you’re not totally convinced he can’t read your mind. He’s explained it to you before, that your minds are one in the same in one way, he can tell how you’re feeling, because often enough, he’s the one causing certain feelings- like this one, and more than he can understand- and so he can usually tell when you’re thinking, but that doesn’t soothe your suspicions.

“Ooo, so what are you thinking about? Tell me? Is this a new crush I don’t know about yet? How do _I_ not know about it yet?” He rambles, now genuinely excited. Leaving your computer to load, he sits back on your bed, which is right next to your desk.

“No, there’s nothing.” You say, but he can see through your lies by now.

“Come on! I can’t judge you. I’ll find it just as hot as you do.”

You shake your head, knowing he won’t take it, of course. He can tell you’re hiding something from him. He hates to be out of the loop. Anything sex related and he has to know about it.

He sits there, legs spread, hooded eyes gazing at you, mouth stretched into a wide smirk, fur tousled. You shouldn’t find him sexy. How was that right? But you can’t help looking at him and getting a little bit hot under the collar. You’re sure it’s not actually him, it’s what he represents, it’s the filthy things he says into your ear and the things he makes you do. It has to be that… right?

“Hey…?”

You realize you’ve been quiet for too long. Maurice isn’t a very patient monster.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Wow, you’re really out of it. Maybe you just need to go to bed and have a good, old wet dream.” He suggests, almost like a doctor prescribing you medicine. Actually, he’s more like some of the doctors you’ve watched in porn, but that brings up a whole other image in your mind that you’d rather not have.

“I’m not tired.” You say, turning back to your laptop, hoping to get away from this. That is, until you’re greeted to the dark screen, the homepage of thumbnails of girl’s butts, cleavage and other, less tame images. There really is no getting away from this. Your body is desperate, Maurice is desperate.

But as soon as you think of that, your whole body feels heavy. You just… just can’t.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asks again, “Are you sick?”

“No.” You mutter under your breath.

“Are you bored of this? We can always try and find a new category you might…”

“No.”

“But this isn’t… this isn’t right…” Maurice sounds at a loss, “You’re not like this.”

“What, you’ve never been with a kid who just isn’t interested in touching themselves?” You ask, defensively.

“I have, plenty of times. But I know you better than that, and you are interested. Tell me what’s wrong.”

His strangely sincere tone unsettles you. You feel bad for stressing him out, for forcing him to be understanding and genuine when he’s much more comfortable getting you off. Your hormones must be pretty fucked up if he’s having to be the sensible one between you.

Guilty, you decide you’re probably never going to get over this if you don’t address it. You just can’t help worrying if you do, whether or not it might be detrimental between you and Maurice. You couldn’t imagine having a different hormone monster, losing him out to a guy, or a girl, someone who is much harder work than you’ve ever been. Someone who gives him way more crap, or tries to suppress him. And you don’t want to end up with some prudish type who chides you every time you think of something sexual.

“Maury, if I said I had a crush on… someone, and it was a bit abnormal…”

“Oh tell me, tell me!” He is practically bouncing on the bed with excitement, “I love the weird ones.”

“Yeah, but I’m just wondering if there’s any crush I could have that would mean you had to leave me…”

“What? Oh come on, it be that bad. Very few things are _that bad_. Who is it?”

You shake your head, unsure.

“Well, let’s say I had a crush on my hormone monster… would I need to get another one because it’s like… bad?”

For a moment, he seems to be processing the thought, like he can’t fit it all inside that giant, testicle shaped head of his. Then he bursts out in a laugh that startles you. He rolls onto his back and chuckles for a few minutes while you watch on, totally confused. You hope that’s a good thing.

He finally rolls onto his side, his head on your pillow and hooded eyes staring up at you, highly amused.

“Ok, one: You have a crush on me? You must be crazy,”

“Well…” You try and make some excuse, but it doesn’t escape your throat. Instead, you start to smile.

“Two: that’s not how the department of puberty works. You like what you like, and I’m here to indulge that. Though that doesn’t mean I’m also not going to make fun of you for liking me.”

You’re laughing now, “You know you’re quite likeable.”

“You’re just a pervert.” He insists, “But that’s why we get on so well.”

“True, true.”

You both laugh lightly for a moment, before Maurice’s giggles die away and he opens the duvet to you, like a lover waiting for his partner in bed. You chuckle to yourself, looking idly towards your computer.

“Oh, you won’t need that,” He tells you, “I think you’ve got enough material right _here._ ” He points at himself with his thumb, arrogantly, as though he’s the sexiest creature in the world. You have to say, he’s probably not, but boy does he do the job quite well. He’s probably the filthiest thing you’ve ever met, and that’s probable more of a complement to him than anything else. You’re just not going to add any fuel to what you can imagine might become a flaming ego if you let him believe he’s really all that.

Still, you can’t deny yourself what you have been all week. You shut the lid of your laptop and join him I the bed, cozying up next to him.


End file.
